Five Nights With Supernatural
by Crystalteen
Summary: Mike Schmidt has been working at the pizzeria for over a year now. He's seen and overheard some pretty strange things, but could never find an explanation behind any of it. However, when one death after another keeps taking place, it's officially up to Sam and Dean Winchester to get to the bottom of the true evil that's contained in the robotic creatures. But will they succeed?


**A/N: Hey everybody! :) :D**

**:) I am back with another fanfic, but this just isn't any other fanfic! This is my first ever crossover between one of my top favorite shows****_ Supernatural _****and the video game that everyone has at least heard of ****_Five Nights At Freddy's_****, which I am honestly terrified of.**

**Now before anyone starts to question why I'm scared of something like ****_that_****, I'll cut to the chase by telling it like this: Yes, I am a sophomore who has a fear of certain robotics that are created to carry out human abilities. It just freaks me out, okay? So, I would appreciate it if nobody harassed me over a fear I have because (A) everybody has phobias, and (B) I'm pretty sure I'm not the only person on this planet who is uncomfortable over ****_Five Nights At Freddy's_****. Thank you. :)**

**Anyway, I am ****_in love _****with ****_Supernatural _****and I am a ****_huge _****fan of especially Sam! X) So, I came up with this crossover! Haunted, psychotic robots that come to life and have a craving for stalking and murdering, and with two very good-looking hunters who have a job to carry out. Talk about suspense and drama! **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! No flames! :D :) Enjoy the first chapter, everyone!**

* * *

_Chapter 1 _

"I'm telling you, Mike Schmidt," groaned Elizabeth Colten, one of the recently hired waitresses of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. "I _cannot _believe that I actually allowed you to convince me to take this job. This place is an absolute hell!"

Twenty-six-year-old Mike rolled his eyes, pretending to fiddle around with the keyboard that was placed on the desk in front of his large black chair. "I don't know if you noticed, but you're the genius who kept complaining to me about how much you needed a job. I did my part as a good friend in helping you _actually _get one." Mike scanned the large computers, which were monitoring practically every inch of the gigantic pizzeria.

Elizabeth released another aggravated moan, remaining where she was in the doorway of the vaguely colored office. She was dressed in a dark red T-shirt and a matching pair of pants, the laces of her white sneakers knotted up almost perfectly. Her apron, which was previously solid white from hours before, was now splattered in dabs of hot sauce and greasy pepperoni slices.

"As a _waitress _in some pathetic pizza joint for _children_! You know how much I _hate _kids, Mike!" Elizabeth solemnly tucked some of her brunette strands behind her pierced ear when they fell from her ponytail.

Mike, obviously growing annoyed himself, spun around in his swirly chair and stared coldly at the spoiled girl. Elizabeth Colton, the head cheerleader all throughout high school and the soul who practically got everything she wanted just by being attractive, had ironically been his best friend since the sixth grade.

"Welcome to the real world, Liz," Mike said with that cold shimmer still in his bright green eyes. "We're not in high school anymore. We can't just quit a good paying job just because we don't like what we count as its flaws."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Easy for _you _to say. You're not some damn employee who has to take orders for a bunch of worthless people and serve them with a phony smile plastered on your face before you gather up all of their filthy dishes and take them back to the kitchen to be scrubbed down. Like, ew! I don't know where these dumbasses had been!"

Mike turned his attention back to the monitors, still irritated. "For your information, those _dumbasses _help keep Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria in business, which means they help us keep our jobs."

"Save the lecture, Mike," Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes. "Don't you have some security job to keep on top of?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Mike couldn't help himself to raise his voice just a little. Elizabeth was a secret key to what made him fumed easily. "Instead on just standing there and narrating my job or testing my patients, why don't you go mop down the kitchen like Mr. Laurent told you to do?"

Elizabeth flew her hands up to her shoulders. "Whoa there," she growled as she harshly narrowed her eyes. "There's no need to get all pissed in my face, Mikey. I shouldn't even be here right now."

"Ain't my fault Mr. Laurent had you stay the night with me here," Mike retorted, tugging lightly at the black tie that was wrapped around his neck. "But I can't say I disagree with his orders. You shouldn't have tried spitting in that one guy's pizza."

"He was being a total bitch towards me!" Elizabeth practically bellowed at the top of her lungs in absolute fury. "I swear, he was nothing but a sexist ass who is only on his planet for people to hate and…"

"Just go clean up the kitchen, Liz," Mike groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the pain of a huge headache beginning to expand inside of his skull. "It's just ten minutes after midnight, so we still got six hours left before we can leave."

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, puffing her chest out before releasing the air as a still irritated sigh. "Fine, I'll go. But can you at least hand me a flashlight? This place is pretty damn dark and I'm not in the mood to walk right into any of those freaky robotics."

As soon as he digested each of her words, Mike allowed his eyes to widen, and without any hesitation, he swiveled himself back around to make eye contact. "Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie Bunny, Chica Chicken, Winnie Wolf, and Foxy are _not _freaky. They are like more members of my family ever since I first got this job last year." Mike, of course, failed to mention that over that he has had plenty of strange experiences in the pizzeria that involved hearing and spotting billions of strange things that he just couldn't explain for the whole past year.

"You _really _need to get out more, Mike," Elizabeth said, her eyes now like two round quarters as she stared at her best friend like he had just lost his mind. "But seriously, hand me a flashlight."

With a small grumble, Mike muttered some cuss words under his breath and opened up one of the dozens of drawers from the large desk. Then, without waiting, he literally tossed it over to Elizabeth, who caught it with just one hand without any issues, and Mike closed the drawer again.

"I'll come back after cleaning down the kitchen." Informed Elizabeth, taking a couple of swats at the flashlight until the flickering light of its gold beam finally remained bright.

"Oh, please," Mike said with noticeably fake enthusiasm. "Take as much time as you need, Liz."

"Gee," Elizabeth flashed the light into the hallway. "You can just cut your excitement of my return with Foxy's pathetic hook."

"It is _not_…" Mike immediately began to object, considering out of the five animal robots that the pizzeria was centered around, Foxy was his favorite, but his opinion didn't matter. By the time he glanced over his shoulder to spot Elizabeth again, she was gone. "Pathetic." Mike softly groaned and rubbed his face with both of his hands, fighting the desperate urge to just close his eyes and go to sleep as much as he could as he stared back at the many computers in front of him.

A small yawn escaped from Mike's system, and she smacked his lips as his eyelids began to grow heavy. They drooped shut halfway, but then shot back open each time. His head had also started to bob, slowly drifting down and then snapping back up towards all of the monitors after a matter of seconds.

Mike rubbed his eyes with his balled up fists, trying to snap himself out of the remains of his tiredness. Nevertheless, it seemed like the sleepiness had hastily trampled over itself to get the hell out of his body when an earsplitting scream erupted from another part of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. A loud and horrified shrill that belonged to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth?" Mike quickly snapped his full attention over to the still wide open doorway of the office, expecting to see his best friend bash in and complain about how she broke a nail or how she saw a small spider when cleaning and it scared the crap out of her.

However, when nobody appeared in the doorway, concern that was as strong as steel flooded throughout each one of Mike's veins.

"Elizabeth, what happened?" Quickly, Mike shoved himself out of his swivel chair, almost knocking it to the floor out of his protective curiosity getting the best of him, and he grabbed his own flashlight from where he had it secure on his belt. Flicking it on, the solid gold beam bounced against the floor, and the security guard slowly made his way over to the empty doorway.

"Are you okay, Liz?" Mike asked as he hastily poked his head out into the dim hallway. However, Elizabeth was nowhere in sight. "Elizabeth, answer me! Are you trying to pull some kind of a ridiculous prank on me?" Mike began to half yell/half whisper, stepping out into the hall and looking both ways before he started to head down in the direction of where the kitchen was located. "Come on, this isn't funny! I'm a full grown security guard, not a little kid who can easily be fooled anymore! You're supposed to be scrubbing down the kitchen! Where are you? Liz, come out!" Mike lightly bit down and nibbled on his bottom lip, slowly sweeping the beam of his flashlight across the different colored checkered tiles of the floor as he carefully made his way down the hallway.

The hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to intensely prick up, sending uneasy chills down his spine. "Liz, where are you? Come out so you can tell me what's wrong!" Unfortunately, all Mike got in response to his calls was complete and actually very creepy silence, other than the soft noise of his black tennis shoes repeatedly pattering against the solid ground. Something wasn't right, and for the first time, as much as Mike hated to admit it, he was beginning to feel excessively uncomfortable as he quietly stalked down the dim hall of the giant pizzeria all by himself.

"Elizabeth!" Mike called out once more, picking up the pace of his walk when he noticed the bright light shining through the narrow crack of the two flap doors that entered the kitchen. Without waiting, he shoved his shoulder into one of the doors, practically tossing himself into the next room, and immediately, Mike clutched his eyes shut when he felt a sharp pain shoot at him painfully from the bridge of his nose to the direct center of his brain. He groaned softly and rubbed one of his eyes, pointing his flashlight to the floor again as he tried to rush his system to get adjusted to the light faster. Being a security guard for a year after all, he was awfully used to doing his job in completely dim or no lighting.

Some leftover serving plates were still splashed in grease and pizza sauce, soaking nastily in one of the sinks with the shrinking bubbles framing them. One of the high cabinets were wide open, revealing a bunch of vibrant colored glass cups that had already been washed, dried, and stored away for the next day of business. However, some more glass cups that hadn't been taken care of yet had been tipped over, the small remaining amounts of different sodas and water vaguely dripping all over the granite counters and falling to the white tiles of the floor.

"Liz?" Mike made himself act like a statue, standing as still as he possibly could as he scanned the kitchen, but to his misfortune, his best friend wasn't anywhere in sight. "What in the hell happened in here?" Mike then muttered to himself, suddenly battling with the thought of whether he should pull out his loaded gun or not from where it was safely secure on his belt.

After a couple of more seconds, Mike found himself raising an eyebrow in absolute confusion when he noticed this strange red liquid that was suddenly puddled up in different spots all around one of surfaces of the many counters.

"Elizabeth, what'd you do in here?" Mike asked with slight anger in his voice. He started somewhat stomping towards the counter that was drenched in the flood of bright red puddles. "I'm here to get paid with my job as the security guard! I'm _not _here to be your babysitter! How many times do I have to tell you that we're _not _in high school anymore? These pranks are getting very…" Then, just as Mike was about to finish, he shut himself up when he made it inches away from the granite counter and witnessed something on the floor. The mop was drenched in water, suddenly tossed to the ground with the bucket resting directly beside of it.

"Elizabeth…" Mike took down a small gulp to help him clear a forming lump in the center of his throat. His eyes were wide as he highly hovered above the bucket to notice something. The water inside of it was a deep red shade; just like the shade of the red that was splashed against the counter. "Did you accidentally drop some hot sauce or something? Come on, you _seriously _have to clean this mess up and I have to get back to the office. If Mr. Laurent sees this mess tomorrow, both of our asses are history…"

Nonetheless, there were _still _no sightings or responses coming back from Elizabeth Colten whatsoever. Where was that brunette at already? Sure, she's pranked Mike plenty of times in the past, mainly by hiding from him and popping out with an echoing "Boo!" to scare the crap out of him, but something told the young twenty-six-year-old that this moment was different.

Mike caught his bottom lip between his white teeth again, not paying attention to how hard he was grinding them against his skin to the point where he accidentally started to shed some drops of blood.

"Aw, damn it!" cussed the young security guard, and within seconds, he was stringing many more curse words together under his breath as he flew the back of his hand up to his mouth and pressed it lightly against his bottom lip. Knowing that he couldn't risk getting any blood on his solid white, button-down security shirt, Mike flashed himself around and bolted over to the sink like he was being chased by the blistering devil.

He snatched up a rag, not caring about how it was stained in some grease, but just as he reached to turn one of the silver handles, the reflection of something absolutely terrifying grasped Mike's complete attention from where it was shining in the clear faucet. A huge robotic in the shape of a tall brown bear stood in the other doorway that was one of the few passageways that led back into the hallway where employees were only allowed to enter.

The bear had giant, round looking blue eyes, but the pupils were vividly glowing like two golden headlights in the autumn moonlight. Its paws that resembled human like hands were gigantic, one of them clenching what looked like a tiny microphone. The tiniest details stood out in Mike's absolutely shocked eyes, like the black bow tie that was around this robot's broad neck and the top hat that was resting perfectly on top of its huge head. The half shut eyelids were a solid black color, just like its big nose. But what shook Mike up the most was the giant smile that was creepily smeared from practically one of its round ears to the other, revealing all of these scary white teeth that were also glowing.

Mike took in a shooting deep breath, as if he suddenly started to choke, and without any hesitation, he hastily spun himself back around on his heels to look directly at the door. But to his surprise, there was nothing suddenly standing there and sneakily peeking in at him.

"L-Liz…" Mike began to stutter, no longer caring about the drops of blood that began to sprinkle down his chin. "Are you in there? Come on, if you come out, I'll buy you a drink in the morning. Or I'll buy you dinner, whatever you want. Come on…please."

Quietly, the young security guard began to step towards the cracked open, slide-wooden door, clutching his flashlight to the point where his knuckles felt like they were about to bust. With every second that past, it felt like his heart was pounding harder than every previous pump it made in his chest.

Finally, when Mike made it over to the door, hearing nothing but the sounds of his footsteps and the small drops of his tiny amount of lip blood tap against the tile floor, he grasped the knob and yanked the door open to the point where it was like he was about to pull it clear off his hinges.

"Elizabeth!" Mike exclaimed, hoping he would find her looking back at him with a giant grin plastered on her face, chuckling with absolute satisfaction towards how much she terrified him. However, much to Mike's dismay, Elizabeth Colten wasn't there; _nothing_ was standing there. "Liz?" Mike somewhat called out, but there was no reply until he glanced down at the ground and saw something that had caused his jaw to drop. The flashlight that he had gave Elizabeth was flat on the floor, surrounded by some more puddles of small red pools with its golden beam flickering and starting to grow dim.

"Oh, my God…" Mike took down a bigger than ever before gulp, his eyes feeling like they were about to burst clear out of his head. "…Elizabeth is gone!"

* * *

Dean Winchester rolled his eyes from where he was lying in the backseat of his black 1967 Chevy Impala. "Sammy," he groaned in absolute irritation as he checked his leather watch that actually used to belong to his father. "How much longer until we make it back to the motel? For God's sake, it's 7:32 in the damn morning!"

"Don't worry, Dean. We're almost there." the second and last Winchester, Sam, replied. His voice was noticeably full of annoyance too, due to the fact that his older brother hadn't stopped complaining ever since Sam rescued him from being possessed and killed by a black-eyed demon hours before.

With a small grunt of exhaustion and slim pain, Dean gripped a hold of one of the black seatbelts and used it to haul himself up into a sitting position. "You said that over a damn hour ago!" he sort of proclaimed in an as-a-matter-of-fact like tone. "And why don't you explain to me why I'm not the one drivin' behind the wheel of _my _car?"

If Sam could've, he would've shot his attention over his broad shoulder and send a cold glare to Dean, but he knew that he couldn't take his eyes off from the road. "Because I'm the one who saved your ass after that demon used its superstrength to toss you around like a damn salad!" Sam growled after a small pause, his voice giving it away that he was biting back on most of his aggravation to keep him from possibly furiously screaming.

Dean scoffed and lightly picked at a white bandage that he had wrapped around a nasty cut on his muscular arm. "You and I both know that I've been through worse. It's not like that son of a bitch shattered any of my bones, stole my soul, or put a knife in my ass."

"No, she didn't," Sam drew in a deep breath and released it after a couple of seconds to help him remain calm. "But she could've and she sure as hell tried. That dagger she used her telekinesis on came _this _close from getting lunged completely into your arm! And you know what that could've done to you? "

"No, but you sure can cut the damn suspense behind that question with a knife, so why don't you _please_ tell me?" Dean asked, his voice drenched in rich sarcasm.

"You could've bled out and died right there!" exclaimed Sam, as if he didn't detect the phony interest in his older brother's tone.

After a soon-to-be bride was found dead in her apartment from a deep stab wound directly to the heart, many more deaths to the future bride's family began to take place and the Winchester's got right on the investigation. At first when they pretended to be with the FBI like they always did in order to check the apartment with some other police officers, it didn't take long until Dean discovered a sparkly cloud of yellow dust covering the carpet around where the bride-to-be's body was discovered. A sulfur, which was the sign of a demon's presence previously being there.

Sam, like always, carried on most of the study work himself, reading up on many previous newspaper articles from the far past and flipping through all of the books that he and Dean had in order to crack down anymore information that they may had needed. Meanwhile, Dean called up their dad's old buddy and their mentor, Bobby, and informed him on everything that was going on in excessive detail. In response, Bobby almost immediately drove down to meet the Winchester brothers and help them out with the investigation.

After going five-and-a-half days with full-blown interviewing any surviving family members and friends of the dead bride-to-be, crossing out some possibilities and gaining others as to what this demon wanted, staying up practically all night and studying their research, and gathering some holy water and more salt, Sam, Dean, and Bobby had finally got the story down.

The future bride, Trina, was to be happily wedded in about another three months to her soon-to-be husband, Drake. However, this black-eyed demon, Trina's older twin sister, Carrie, who died in a drunk driving accident just before Trina got engaged to Drake, Carrie's lifetime crush, had different plans in store for the future bride. Out of total jealously, Carrie heartlessly possessed Trina, who was going through one of those stressful wedding stages since the special day was just months away, and without waiting, Carrie lunged a knife into her twin's heart, murdering her.

"As much as I admire your mother hen routine for me," Dean said, knowing that he was still acting completely sarcastic. One of his little, smug like grins slipped across his face, seeming to light up his slim stubble. "I dodged the knife just in time and the worse I got was a slash across the arm from that freaking bitch. It sure as hell could've been worse. I'm just glad Bobby found that asshole's bones and torched them. Bein' tossed around like a salad isn't one of my top favorite hobbies while on the job, Sammy."

"Another case complete until the next one, that is." Sam pointed out, right before he drew in a small breath and used it to puff his bangs out of his face. "Is Bobby heading back home yet?"

"Um..." Dean pursed his lips slightly and thought for a moment, resting his head against one of the rolled up windows. "No, not yet. I think he said he's actually going to wait a few days so he can try to restock on some needed hunting supplies." He rubbed at his jaw, quietly opening and closing his mouth repeatedly as he listened to it crack just a little.

"Well, I think since the three of us worked very hard on this case, it's fair to go out and spend some money on lunch after we catch some sleep." Sam shared, subtracting the thought from his mind that he and Dean practically went out to eat lunch everyday, whether they were working on an investigation or not.

Dean raised one of his eyebrows as he peeked over at his little brother like he had just turned insane right in front of him. "Sam, we are back in Kansas for the damn near billionth time. We pretty much attended lunch in every restaurant known to man here."

Sam hesitated for a moment, growing confused as he peeked at Dean in the mirror and shrugged his strong shoulders as he questioned with, "So?"

"_So _I'm not really in the mood to go waste our money on food we already had in the same old places. Besides, after all of the cases that we've had here in the past, I don't think it's really a good idea for us to eat where we could bump into some bitches who hate our guts."

After taking in and digesting every word of his brother's honest, but sort of strict lecture, Sam poked the tip of his tongue against his right cheek and slightly poked at it, trying to think of a way to resolve Dean's point.

"Okay..." the youngest Winchester said as he puffed his dark bangs out of his face again. "How about I look up on my laptop when we get back to the motel to see if there are any new restaurants around here?"

Dean shrugged, wincing just slightly from the sharp pain stabbing in his back after getting flung around like tomorrow would never come, and he allowed his eyelids to fall shut. "Hey, if you really want to, then go on. I'm not going to try stopping you."

Sam didn't bother to say anything back, but he could still feel the edges of his lips twitch upward into a small grin. Then, without another word from either of the brothers, Sam turned his complete attention back to the somewhat bumpy road and continued the drive in silence.

Finally, after about another fifteen minutes, the second oldest Winchester pulled up into The Ranch Rose Motel, which Dean described as "possibly the cheapest motel in all of Kansas with the most innocent and delicate name." With a deep sigh of relief, Sam parked the Chevy Impala in one of the open spots and stripped his seatbelt from where it was strapped against his strong chest.

"Dean?" Sam said as he checked the time that was advertised on the car's clock, making sure it matched what the watch around his wrist said. 7:51 A.M. exactly. "Dean, come on. We made it back to the motel." The younger Winchester pinched the silver car key and twisted it, removing it from the ignition. "De-" Sam was about to repeat himself again, but before he could finish saying his older brother's name, he was cut off when the sound of a loud snore erupted from the backseat.

Without any hesitation, Sam quickly looked over his shoulder, only so he could find Dean with his head still prompted against the cold window and his mouth hanging wide open.

"...Out of all of these hours you've been complaining to me on the road, _now _you finally decide to get some sleep." Sam said mainly to himself in a hushed whisper. At first, his first instinct was to attempt shaking Dean and saying his name repeatedly until he woke up, but then, Sam decided to do the second best thing and quietly open up the driver's door, climbing out of the Chevy Impala. Then, without waiting, he quietly slammed the door shut and sent the still fast asleep Dean a small smirk through the windshield before the second oldest Winchester marched his way into the motel.

As soon as Sam made it up to his and Dean's room on the fifth floor, he fetched his laptop from where he had left it on his bed and pulled out a chair at the small, round, wooden table that was in the corner of the country themed room.

It took less than a minute for Sam to start typing before he heard the door fly open, followed by none other than Dean's voice somewhat exclaiming, "Sam, what the hell?"

"Ah, I see you're awake, Dean." Sam said, not bothering to try disguising the wide and handsome smile that had already smeared across his face.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, hesitating for a moment to take in Sam's tone towards him before he angrily closed the door behind him. What made it even more angry on Dean was the fact that he could tell that Sam knew that he was being a smartass. Plus Sam actually was _admiring _it.

"...You left me in the freaking car!" Dean sort of exclaimed, shattering the short pause.

Sam refused to remove his eyes from his laptop's screen as he scrolled down a page that was full of different restaurants and links to all of the different directions on how to get there. "Just for an extra two or three minutes." the youngest Winchester then pointed out.

Dean rubbed his forehead and softly groaned, fighting a headache that was beginning to pound at his skull. "You could've at least _tried _to wake me up!" he informed.

Sam softly snickered a little. "It would've been an easier task to fight a hundred more black-eyed demons."

With a small shake of his head, Dean quietly cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes. "Bitch." He growled, and almost instantly, Sam fired back with a small chuckle and the single word, "Jerk."

Dean, again, rolled his eyes and gently rested his hand flat against his chin, rubbing it. "God, I have to shave and take a shower before I can even think about taking a nap." He plopped himself down onto his neatly made bed, which matched Sam's perfectly, and Dean pulled both of his boots off. Then, after removing his socks secondly, Dean grasped a hold of the bottom of his dirty T-shirt and with a small moan of stiffness, he pulled it off from his body.

Sam swirled himself around, resting his broad back against the wall as he focused his eyes on his older brother. "Damn, Dean," Sam said, his lips now peeled back to reveal his teeth, which were slightly clenched in a way that said, 'God, that _has _to be painful.' "That Carrie demon tossed you around harder than I thought." He sounded pretty guilty about it, considering all he got for injuries during this case were a few little cuts. However, Dean's chest and some of his back were practically covered in different blotches of black, blue, and purple.

"It's worse than it feels," Dean assured coolly, as if he wasn't injured at all. "Did you find a place for lunch yet?"

"Um..." Sam pressed his lips lightly together and turned his attention back to the bright screen of his laptop. "...Not yet, no."

Dean paused for a few silent seconds, and then nodded. "Okay...keep looking. I'm going to take my bathroom time early."

Sam, without saying anything else back, shifted himself back around in his wooden chair again and continued his search for a place to eat lunch. Ever since he and Dean grew out of sharing the bathroom at the same time, that time being when Dean became a teenager, the two Winchesters decided to create a schedule that marked how long each other were allowed in the bathroom before having to let the next brother go. And whenever Dean and Sam argued over the bathroom, which they sometimes still did, they decided to do the childish thing by flipping a coin, playing Rock-Paper-Scissors, or just racing each other into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower water beginning to run became nonexistent to Sam as he continued to scan all of the different eating joints that were still around in Kansas. Out of all of the places in the world, who knew Kansas was downright popular at having so many restaurants?

After about twenty more minutes of clicking on different links and reading reviews on all kinds of different food joints in Kansas, Sam seemed to discover his eyes lighting up in mainly relief. "Dean!" he called out, turning his head over so he could see the bathroom door, which had steam seeping out from underneath it due to the shower that Dean had wrapped up five minutes previously. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed again, but this time was a little louder.

Within a few more quick and quiet seconds, the sound of the bathroom door unlocking and its hinges squeaking when Dean shoved it open roared throughout the silent air. There Sam saw his older brother standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel tightly around his waist. In one of his hands, he was holding a razor, and he had white cream covering his jaws, chin, and upper lip.

"What in the hell is it, Sam?" Dean asked, his voice raised with clear annoyance bouncing in his eyes.

Sam couldn't help himself to feel a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Shaving?" he asked, motioning slightly to the razor in Dean's hand.

"Oh, nah, Sammy. I'm afraid that I have damn rabies," Dean sarcastically and stubbornly answered. "Now why are you screaming my name like I'm in the deepest pit of hell and you're across the entire planet?"

"Sorry," Sam said, still grinning. At times like this, he was practically immune to Dean's stern attitude. "I just wanted to tell you that I think I found a place where we could go out to eat lunch."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Huh...what's it called?"

Sam carefully slid his laptop around so Dean could see the screen from across the small motel room. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria." the second and last Winchester said, pointing at the practically glowing white words that were advertised on his laptop's screen. "Telling by the reviews, it's a fantastic place to attend if you want to enjoy entertainment and delicious food. Plus it's only been around for about three years. And other than this month, we haven't been back here in Kansas ever since he had to deal with those Amazons about five years ago. I think it sounds rather good."

Dean paused, saying nothing and creating a moment of absolute silence as he stared directly back at Sam. "...You lost me at _pizzeria_." the eldest Winchester then stated. "Mm...God, I can't remember the last time I had a good slice of pepperoni and cheese pizza."

Sam arched one of his eyebrows. "...You mean around three weeks ago when you and I interviewed that Pizza Hut guy?"

"Sam, I can barely remember what I ate yesterday night for dinner. Now just shut up and get the directions, all right? And after you do that, get some rest. I'll call Bobby and ask if he wants to join us after I shave." And with that, Dean turned himself back around and walked back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him so it was only cracked open.

"So Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria it is?" Sam asked, despite already knowing the answer to that question as he began his new, much easier search for the directions.

"Yes!" Dean called back, right before the sound of the bathroom sink running started drifting in the air. "That's why I told you to look up the directions to the place!"

Sam clicked the bright blue link, waiting just a couple of seconds before the information on how to get to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria popped across the screen.

"Nothing better than going out for lunch after completing a long case instead of going out for lunch while _still _being in the middle of a long case." Sam whispered to himself with complete honesty as he used a nearby black pen to start writing down the directions in as much deep detail as possible on a sky-blue notepad that the motel provided for visitors to take.

Unfortunately, neither Dean or Sam knew about the almost entirely unescapable piece of hell on earth that was just waiting for their arrival.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Well, there's the first chapter! :)**

**I hope you all enjoyed reading it! :D It'll get even more suspenseful and dramatic as the story goes on! **

**Remember that reviews are greatly appreciated! :) :) :D :D**

**I also get out of school for summer at the way beginning of July, just to let you all know. **

**Please review and stay tuned for the next chapter, everybody! :D :D :) :)**


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